


See me

by Shatterflowerdemon



Series: Reader inserts [8]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, Breakups, Deception, Dork with glasses that I love, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, For the most part, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Light Angst, Magic, Other, Reader Is Not Chara (Undertale), Reader Is Not Frisk (Undertale), Reader Is Not Kris (Deltarune), Sad with a Happy Ending, Science sans if you look, Science sans is a sweetheart, The sans you left is a prick, World Hopping, World transport, character switch, magic portal, or Both, or oblivious, sentient reflection, the sans you left behind can be interpreted as any of them, you get sent to an alternate world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:33:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28156878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shatterflowerdemon/pseuds/Shatterflowerdemon
Summary: 'Let me help you,' they had said. 'Vent to me and let me help you. I will soothe your troubles.' it was a good offer. There was no one else you could talk to about your strained relationship with Sans.Would you let your reflection live your life if they promised to succeed where you failed?Inspired by a wonderful fic called Reflection by Lizzie_Tempest.
Relationships: Sans (Undertale) & Reader, Sans (Undertale)/Reader
Series: Reader inserts [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2042395
Comments: 18
Kudos: 89





	See me

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Reflection](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27309805) by [Lizzie_Tempest](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizzie_Tempest/pseuds/Lizzie_Tempest). 



> I had to re-write 90% of this because my draft got deleted. The first draft was angstier than this but I'm not too upset with how this turned out.
> 
> my Socials:
> 
> Shatterflowerdemon on Tumblr

"Huh? Not that I don't mind seein' your face but, I didn't think you'd ever want to see mine again" sans says. Aha, fuck, even in a mirror world you two had problems. It wasn't meant to be, any version of you and sans. 

"Of course I'd come back, I'm sorry about what happened, and honestly I'd like to move on?" It sounded like a question. Your reflection seemed much nicer than you, so this should work.

"Alright, heh, I can put on a movie while you grab snacks?" Sans asks. You smile at him and walk into the kitchen. The sound of Netflix fills you with melancholy. This is what you could have had if you weren't such a bad date-mate. Honestly, this Sans probably didn't deserve you either. Although, mirror sans didn't seem too different from y- the other sans. You find the ketchup and a bag of chips. You avoid the pickle-flavored ones since you knew he didn't like them. 

You find sans slumped on the couch. He had pulled up the movie section and seemed to be waiting on you. The ketchup bottle sets on the coffee table with a thump. The crinkle of the chip bag seems loud in the silence. 

"Whatcha wanna watch?" Sans asks. Oh, that's easy, the two of you had watched a good one a while ago. Sans had said he liked it.  
You point him to it, "That one maybe? I heard good things about it."  
"Hmm, I was kinda thinking about this one," he says and clicks over to one you knew he was gonna hate. Way too inaccurate for him and not even attempting to be comical. 'crackpot science taken seriously' he had called it.  
"Doesn't look like somethin' you'll like to be honest," you tell him. When you look away from the TV, his sockets are dark. His skull swivels towards you.  
"Who are you?"  
You gulp, shit, why did this sans have to be observant? Damn  
"Your partner? Sans, are you okay?"

"I don't have a partner."

Shit. This is embarrassing. They were going to think you had a delusion and send you off to the psych ward. This is bad.

"Well, there's one difference between our realities, haha," you nervously chuckle. Might as well make a joke before you get carted off.

"Explain, please."

You sigh and fill him in.

It started like it always did. Slow and creeping. Lingering agitation after disagreements, and tense silences. But then it had gotten quicker and easier to argue. You weren't sure how it escalated every time, but it would. He'd come home from judging, and something was wrong. You would be talking to a friend, and then you were planning to leave him because of it. Next thing you know, you go from watching TV to yelling at each other. He started to avoid you. You'd start talking, and then he'd be gone with a blip. No warning, just gone. You couldn't be good enough, not sweet enough. He needed more consideration and empathy, he said. It was always something you couldn't be. 

It was a day like any other, yelling, harsh words, and animosity. he had said something very unkind to you the day it happened. It worked if he aimed to hurt you... you knew he was right. You weren't what he needed. His face was less angry when he saw your expression, but he still teleported away. 

You weren't sure what compelled you to go to the attic of your shared house, but you did. Your mother's antique mirror was there, dusty but in one piece. You crumpled in front of it, letting loose your despair. she would spend lots of time using this mirror. Brushing her hair, changing, helping you get ready for important events as a child, everything she could use it for, she did. 

Then you saw it. You had raised your head, only to see your reflection, but wrong. The pose was wrong, the face wasn't exactly right, and their expression was not as despondent as yours. It scared you, so you scrambled away from the mirror.

'Let me help you,' they had said. 'Vent to me and let me help you. I will soothe your troubles.' It was a good offer. There was no one else you could talk to about your strained relationship with Sans. He would have a cow if you even breathed about an argument to Papyrus. All of your friends were too involved. 

So you told them everything from the beginning to then. Your reflection offered you sympathetic noises and looks. They made an offer to you. 'Trade places with me. I can be what you aren't, and he can be happy. Isn't that what you want?'

Of course, it was, so you took the offer. That's how you found yourself in the attic of a different Sans' house. Speaking of said Sans, his hands dragged down his face. He huffed a long sigh. You cried silently over how fucked this situation was. Happiness never seemed to find Sans when you were involved.

"I'm sorry, I still managed to hurt you, somehow. I always fuck up, and I can't seem to stop," you tell Sans. 

The Sans in front of you, a stranger wearing a familiar face, shuts the TV off and turns to you. His arm wraps around you. It's loose enough where you can break his grip if you desire to. You lean into the offer of comfort. 

"My other self is a fuckin' idiot. I don't think I've ever hated myself more than I do now. He was so insecure and wrapped up in his bullshit to care about how he treated ya," he says. You believe him. There's a fire in his eyelights. 

He tells you about well, you. It happened eerily similar but different to your situation. They drifted apart, it seemed. They argued over little things much like you did with the sans you left behind. Your reflection started staying out more and coming home less. They'd sneak in at night when Sans was working late on a project or asleep. They didn't always say where they were and would be agitated with this sans if he asked. The sans beside you told you about how he came home after a shift one day, and their stuff was gone. Except for the mirror in the attic. That you didn't explain anything about the mirror. Nothing, not even about it being an antique. It was just there, and he hadn't the heart to throw it out. Your reflection didn't bother giving him an address, so he figured they'd come back for rit, or not. 

That was days ago. Meaning, the reflection had snuck into the house to do the switch with you. The two of you talked like that for a while, comparing stories and personal habits. Anecdotes and melancholy stories of love lost. There were many similarities but unexpected differences too. He likes pickles, whereas the sans from your world couldn't stand them. 

You made a pact that night. No looking in the mirror alone to avoid unhealthy behavior, like an obsession. Tell your friends in this world that you were rebuilding things slowly. The two of you could never figure out where your reflection had moved. The items stayed lost. You didn't even have their phone, just the mirror.

Everyone was glad to hear that you two were trying to work things out. Truthfully, you were recovering from the old wounds. Sometimes you would still flinch when a situation that you knew Sans (the one with your reflection) would hate, arose. At those times, you had to remind yourself that this wasn't who you left behind. This was Sans, the dorky skeleton with a pocket protector in the labcoat he couldn't hang right. The sans that wore silly clip-on ties.

Sans, this sans, tried to make your stay as pleasant as possible. He showed you around the house like you were on an episode of MTV Cribs. He had leftover toiletries from when his ex, the reflection, lived with him. Apparently, they didn't bother taking the half-empty bottles with them. 

Honestly, what the fuck was wrong with them? You couldn't wrap your head around why they left. Maybe it was similar to your reasoning? that they didn't feel good enough for sans, but the dialogue from the day you swapped told you that wasn't right. They hadn't seemed at all bothered by their actions. Well, the mirror showed you and sans that the other versions of yourselves were happy together. Guess it doesn't matter, then. 

It still stung that the sans in the mirror hadn't even noticed anything was off. The sans you lived with knew very quickly you weren't his ex. You still cared about the sans you left enough to want him to be happy. The difference is, you know that he was just as fucked up as you are. 

You don't remember the day you stopped thinking about the mirror and what it held. Maybe it was the day you brought lunch to sans at the lab, and he looked cute while explaining his work. It could have been the day you saw sans wearing those dorky hot dog patterned shorts. Unless it was the day that the two of you went to the park and sat a little closer than necessary. 

After weeks and weeks, you had adjusted to your new home. You had a job and a nice place with the skeleton brothers. Papyrus was intelligent, emotionally, and intellectually. He abandoned his aspirations to join the royal guard on the surface, but he was determined to keep himself fit. He was working on his first cookbook while working at a nice restaurant on the east side of town. Sans wasn't as overprotective of his brother as you might have expected. Papyrus was a capable monster who knew about the dangers that could lurk anywhere. He had even picked up on your 'change for the better' and was proud of you for it. Something about character growth? It was hard to hear him over the sizzling as he cooked when he told you that. Damn did he cook some good shit. 

Today, Sans had come early from the lab. Papyrus was still working his shift, and you had the day off. 

"Hey, Hun," he greeted you from the doorway. You smiled at him and patted the couch next to you. Sans hung up his labcoat wrong and padded over to you. 

"How was your day?" you asked him. Sans stretched his phalanges out and winked at you.  
"Much better now, you?" You laughed and partially ignored how happy that made you.  
"Fine, did the laundry. Been thinking about ordering some fuzzy socks for paps," you say. Sans chuckles and presses closer to you on the couch. His shoulder brushes your arm. You rip your focus from the point of contact to what Sans had just said.  
"-about the anniversary," is all you caught from that sentence. Your eyebrows furrow slightly.  
"Sorry, Sans. Can you repeat that?" you ask him. His smile widens.

"Was talkin' bout the anniversary of you comin' here. I gotta admit, it hurt when they left me, but I wouldn't have it any other way." 

That startles you. "Anniversary? It hasn't been a year," you say, confused. Sans tsks playfully and straightens the glasses on his skull. You notice he used blue tape today. 

"Nah, Hun, but it has been three months. I think that deserves some celebration," Sans says. You huff.

"Is this just an excuse for us to get drunk and watch American Pie?" you ask him. 

He only grins, and a bag of Grillby's pops into existence on the coffee table. A bottle of your favorite poison floats over from the kitchen to rest next to it. 

You snort and dissolve into laughter. Of fucking 'course it was planned out. 

"Dork," you say. Sans only smiles and nods. His shoulder bumps yours. 

"Thanks for being here Hun." 

"I wouldn't have it any other way, Sans."

You feel seen.


End file.
